A Study In Wooing
by sapphiresnowx
Summary: Extravagant festivities in Camelot provide the perfect opportunity for Arthur to teach Merlin how to woo Morgana. But, little does he know, Merlin is well-versed in the art of wooing himself, and has his sights set on someone else...
1. Festivities & Falling Outs

_**Author's Note: I just found the first three chapters of this sitting on my laptop, so I have undertaken the task of attempting to finish it. It was written early in series 1, so please ignore anything that is inconsistent with the events of later episodes. The title of the story and its plot are subject to change/adapt to my writing whims and fancies, so I apologize in advance for any inconveniences this may cause. **_

When Merlin awoke, the sun had just risen, bestowing beautiful hues of orange and pink upon his belongings that were thrown haphazardly across the small room. He paused to observe the effect but for a moment before groaning loudly – tomorrow was the start of yet another festivity that King Uther of Camelot was hosting. Now, most other people would be excited about the dancing, the feasts and, of course, the sword fighting tournament that was to be held, but Merlin is undoubtedly not like 'most other people.' He is the Crown Prince Arthur's personal manservant and, being a servant of Camelot Castle, Merlin would be spending the majority of his day ensuring that it is in impeccable condition, while spending the rest catering to the Prince's every need.

_Yet another excuse for showing Arthur off to the wealthy upperclassmen from the nearby towns_, thought Merlin bitterly, as he changed from his nightclothes to the baggy grey pants and long-sleeved shirt that he normally donned, completing his ensemble by tying a red neckerchief around his neck. _He'll be in a rut because of the pressure on him to choose a suitable wife from among the daughters of the noblemen that his father invited, making him more insufferable than usual, and if he wins the tournament – which he obviously will – he'll be strutting around with his ego so inflated that he won't be able to get back into the castle… and _I_ will get the brunt of this in the form of insults and extra chores. _

Not wanting to provoke the Prince's prattish side any earlier than necessary, Merlin hurried towards the kitchen to retrieve Arthur's breakfast and stumbled down the corridor leading to his room, surprisingly managing to wave to Gwen, his friend and fellow servant, while balancing the plate stacked with food in one hand. However, Merlin's moment of perfect coordination was short-lived when he all but fell through the door to Arthur's room, dropping the plate of food and startling the Crown Prince who was sitting at the round table in the centre of the room perusing documents that his father had given him on grain stocks.

"You_ idiot_!" Arthur yelled, shaking his head. "You have got to be the worst manservant that I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. I have half a mind to throw you in the stocks right now –"

"But then His Highness would be displeased, since he has ordered _all_ of the servants to clean the palace today. You could appear to be favouring me, which would not be good for your reputation, Arthur," Merlin interrupted. "Goodness knows that Uther disapproves of friendship with a servant almost as much as a relationship with one because they are below your station… think of what the visiting Lords and Ladies would have to say about that!"

This was clearly the wrong thing to say; a look at Arthur's face showed that much. Merlin gulped and awaited the heated argument that was sure to follow. However, after a moment, Arthur's features were composed in a mask that betrayed no emotion.

"Speaking of the visiting Lords, Merlin," Arthur began, his voice deathly calm, "My father will not tolerate any of your typical behavior during this tournament. Your clumsiness and utter lack of respect for your superiors will bring disgrace to the Pendragon name, and my father will do more than just throw you in the stocks. He'll have your head! I expect you to perform as the other servants do – perfectly, and as expected. Do you understand?"

Never one to back down from a fight, several retorts found their way to Merlin's tongue. However, the blackness of Arthur's glare caused Merlin to swallow these retorts and, lowering his eyes as he had seen the other servants do, Merlin replied with the standard answer that was expected from servants. "Yes, sire."

"Good. Now I expect you to muck out the stables, wash my clothes and clean my armor. Once that is done and you have completed the tasks that my father has assigned you, come back here. I'll need to be dressed for bed after having you draw me a nice hot bath." With that, Arthur turned and walked out of the room, muttering something about finding his own breakfast and that Merlin had better have his armor cleaned before he gets back because he and Lancelot needed to practice for the tournament.

_Well, I'm just glad he doesn't want me to spar with him again,_ thought Merlin, recalling how just yesterday he had ended up with a minor concussion due to Arthur hitting him in the helmet with his lance. Granted, it wasn't Arthur's fault that Merlin wasn't quick enough to block the blow, however Merlin didn't understand why he couldn't have asked one of his knights for sparring practice; they were much better trained than a manservant. Merlin removed the Prince's armor from the chair beside his bed – after Merlin's injury, the Prince hadn't had time to stop at the armory to change, but had carried the unconscious Merlin to Gaius before returning to his room later that night, worn out from practice and spending the day worrying by Merlin's bedside – and, eyes flashing gold, the door locked and rags quickly spun through the air, leaving Arthur's armor spotless and shiny enough to reflect the dim candlelight tenfold. Turning to the pile of dirty laundry, Merlin's eyes flashed gold again and, after muttering a few incomprehensible words, the clothes began to wash, dry, and fold themselves.

As Merlin was placing the newly-cleaned clothing in Arthur's closet, there was a loud knocking on the door, followed by "What on earth do you think you're doing locking me out of my own room? Let me in at once, you idiot!"

Merlin breathed a sigh of relief that he thought of locking the door – if anyone had come in and seen him using sorcery, he would be executed, regardless of it being used for such a mundane task. As he opened the door, he was greeted with the Prince's trademark smirk that caused women (and some men) to swoon, but intimidated those who knew him well.

"Hiding out so no one can see what a lousy servant you are, are you?"

Merlin glared at Arthur and, forgetting the ultimatum that he was given earlier, said exasperatedly, "You prat! I spent the entire morning serving you – "

"That is what servants do, _Mer_lin. They _serve_. "

"And making sure your armor is polished and ready for your practice and cleaning your clothes and treating you like a master rather than a friend like you asked and now I'm going to go and muck out the stables because I'm sick of being treated like I'm disposable when you're in a bad mood!" And, with that, Merlin stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut, and leaving behind a very shocked Arthur Pendragon.


	2. Making Up With A Makeover

Having spent several hours mucking out the stables and grooming Arthur's horses, Merlin set off towards the Great Hall considerably calmer than before, only to find it completely decorated and cleaned out. Merlin smiled; that made his job _a lot_ easier. Inspecting flags and banners for moth holes was never one of his strong suits… but only because he lacked the coordination to allow him to balance precariously on a wobbling stool without tumbling down, tapestry and all. Despite this, Merlin wandered aimlessly around the castle in an attempt to appear busy, just in case Uther were to see him. However, this pretence was soon dropped as Merlin found himself outside – in the courtyard where Arthur was training, to be specific. Upon realizing this, two thoughts crossed Merlin's mind. _I need to get out of here before Arthur sees me and punishes me for my outburst earlier_, was the first. _He'll probably_ _punish me by making me spar with him, since he_ knows_ I hate it_, was the second. Looking around, Merlin noticed that Arthur and Lancelot were finished sparring – Arthur had won, of course – and Arthur was strutting towards him now; there was no chance that Merlin could escape now that Arthur had seen him.

"Ah, Merlin," Arthur called out. "There you are. I was beginning to wonder whether you really had gone to clean out the stables after you were finished your little fit. I'm impressed. Maybe you aren't so useless after all."

Merlin's eyebrows arched high enough to rival Gaius', but he remained silent. _Was that an attempt at a compliment? _

"Now that you're finished, I have a little surprise waiting for you back in my room. Now, come on. "

When they had arrived at Arthur's quarters, Arthur had instructed Merlin to close his eyes and turn so that he was facing the door; Merlin thought that it was silly, but indulged the Prince nonetheless, turning around and placing his neckerchief over his eyes and tying it behind his head.

"Okay. You can look now. "Arthur's voice was laden with expectation and embarrassment, Merlin noted before turning around. When he opened his eyes, he felt his jaw drop. There, in Arthur's hands, was a tunic. It was identical to the one that Arthur was to be wearing the night of the feast, but where Arthur's was crimson, one of the Pendragon colours, Merlin's was deep blue.

After a long period of silence, Arthur spoke quickly, betraying his awkwardness, "This was one of my old tunics. I had Gwen let it out at the sides so that it would fit you, since I'm assuming you have a smaller frame than me… though I wouldn't know because of those baggy clothes you wear all the time. You are my manservant and the feast is of utmost importance and, since you are attending, you must look proper. You can't be wearing those scarves and rags you call clothing – people will assume that I don't take good enough care of you, and that would look bad on the both of us."

Merlin smiled softly. It was clear that Arthur felt bad for snapping at him earlier and that the tunic was intended to be a sort of apology… and the explanation as to why he was given the tunic was as close to an apology as Arthur could give – the words "I'm sorry" seem to be impossible for him to say, since Princes, of course, are never wrong.

"Well, aren't you going to try it on? If it doesn't fit, Gwen will need to alter it _now_, since the feast is tomorrow."

Still smiling, Merlin grabbed the fabric from Arthur's hands, shrugging out of his thin sweater and tugging the tunic over his head. Looking at himself in the mirror, Merlin had to admit that it was much more flattering than his normal, baggy attire, since the fabric clung to his skinny frame. Judging from the look of incredulity on Arthur's face, he thought the same thing. Blushing slightly under Arthur's intense scrutiny, Merlin turned away from the mirror.

"Thank you, Arthur," he said, graciously.

"Just wait until you see your new pants!" Merlin groaned as Morgana and Gwen walked into the room carrying piles of fabric. Clearly this makeover was _far_ from complete.


	3. Preposterous Proposals

The next morning, Merlin awoke at the crack of dawn and, throwing on the new tunic and pants that Gwen had made for him, examined his appearance in the mirror. The pants were form-fitting, but loose enough for Merlin to still be able to move easily, making his legs look less gangly and much longer. The tunic clung to his chest, emphasizing the muscles that even Merlin didn't know he had, and the deep blue colour was the exact same shade as his eyes, which were now visible due to Morgana's insistence that his bangs be trimmed. Merlin smiled faintly; although his appearance was altered quite a bit, he had to concede that this new look was _much_ more flattering than his baggy attire and shaggy mop of hair. He had gone from an awkward-looking teenager to a relatively handsome young man overnight, all thanks to Morgana and Gwen. Merlin decided that he would have to pick them both a bouquet of flowers later to show his appreciation.

He raced down the corridor with Arthur's breakfast, hoping that the Prince was still asleep so that he didn't have to deal with Arthur mocking his new haircut – the Prince was called off to an important meeting with King Uther and was unable to witness the full extent of Merlin's transformation, to Merlin's delight and Arthur's dismay. As he opened the door, balancing the tray precariously upon his knee, Merlin thanked whatever omnipotent being that existed for deciding to grant his wish. Arthur was still sleeping soundly; his blond locks, tousled from sleep, formed a halo of disarray atop his head. Snoring lightly, Arthur rolled onto his back and cuddled the pillow closer to his chest, causing the thick fur blanket that was covering him to fall to the ground. Merlin smiled softly at how the usual impenetrable mask that betrayed no emotions was shed in sleep, leaving Arthur exposed and vulnerable.

Sighing softly, Arthur rolled over yet again, mumbling something that vaguely sounded like "Merlin." Merlin started slightly; despite all of his efforts to be quiet which, assuredly, is not as easy as it sounds, was it possible that he had woken the Prince up? Tiptoeing towards the bed, Merlin picked up the blanket and rested it on top of Arthur, intending to give him a few more minutes sleep before he had to dress and greet the visiting Lords and Ladies. However, Merlin's good intentions were for naught as he tripped over Arthur's best boots and crashed to the floor, knocking over a chair as he fell.

Arthur awoke violently exclaiming "What? Where's the battle?" as he quickly sat upright. Looking down on the floor and seeing Merlin, he groaned and made his way towards him, righting the chair as he went. "Must you be so clumsy? If you do this today, I swear..."

Although the threat was left open to interpretation, Merlin understood perfectly. Taking Arthur's outstretched hand, he managed to stumble to his feet and brush off his tunic before pulling out the same chair that he had tripped over and inviting Arthur to sit for breakfast.

A brief look of satisfaction crossed Arthur's face as he took the seat offered to him. "You know, this has got to be the first time my breakfast has been edible upon arriving to my room, though it _is_ a tad cold. How long has it been sitting out?"

Merlin blushed slightly. He couldn't possibly admit to the Prince that while he was sleeping he had been warming his food with magic nor could he admit that he had allowed Arthur to sleep late intentionally. However, he had to say something, and fast – the look of irritation on Arthur's face grew with every passing second.

Choosing the lesser of the two evils, Merlin said, "Well, you see, _sire_, it's been about ten minutes or so. I had every intention of waking you when I arrived but I saw how peacefully you were sleeping and you looked so tired, so I just had to let you sleep for just a little bit longer, but then I tripped and woke you up."

Arthur snorted in amusement. "Have you been taking lessons from Gwen? That was the most convoluted rambling I have heard in quite some time. Wait. Did I hear that correctly? _You_ were trying to be _quiet_?"

At that, Arthur burst out laughing; not the sarcastic snorting or scoffing that one usually hears, but a genuine, heartfelt laugh. Now as you probably know, laughter, like yawning, is contagious. Once Arthur began to laugh, Merlin started laughing as well, due to the absurdity of the situation. This only caused Arthur to laugh harder, resulting in a good ten minutes of the duo laughing manically, which ended in Arthur doubled over on the ground, clutching his belly, and Merlin wiping tears from his eyes.

A knock on the door, however, was all that it took to ruin the unusually cheerful atmosphere. Pulling himself to a standing position, Arthur strode over to the door, opening it widely. Outside stood a young boy of about fifteen with dirty blond hair and large green eyes and who Merlin recognized as one of the many servants of the castle.

"Um, excuse me, Sire," the boy began, lowering his gaze to the floor tiles in submissiveness, "His Highness, King Uther, has requested your presence in the Great Hall immediately."

"Thank you. You are dismissed."

With a small bow, the boy, who Merlin believed belatedly to be called Richard, turned and walked down the hallway towards Morgana's chambers, presumably to deliver the same message he had given Arthur. Closing the door, Arthur turned to his own manservant, allowing him to clothe him in his best tunic and boots.

He was just about to head out the door when Merlin called after him, "Arthur, please don't tell me that you are going to go out looking like you just got out of bed. Your hair is a mess!"

Frowning, Arthur narrowed his eyes. He was about to make a comment about that mop that Merlin called hair before noticing that Merlin had, indeed, gotten a haircut. "Well, _Mer_lin, not everyone can get the King's Ward to take pity upon them and give them a haircut, you know. Besides, the ladies seem to like me well enough regardless of how I look – something that I'm sure _you_ know nothing about," Arthur said, a smirk playing upon his lips.

"Whatever you say, Arthur," Merlin replied dryly, rolling his eyes. Merlin knew Arthur well enough by now to know that nothing he said could pierce the Prince's large ego; it was a losing battle.

Although Arthur said nothing while walking past Merlin, his triumphant smirk and the way he ruffled Merlin's hair displayed how he felt that he had won that battle of wits. When he reached the doorway, Arthur looked back in annoyance. "Do come along now. My father's guests are sure to have horses that require bedding in the stables and, seeing as he knows how much time you spend in there mucking them out, he decided that you are to look after them for the next few days. Who knows, you may actually be competent by the time they leave."

That last comment earned Arthur a playful swat to the head, as Merlin stalked past Arthur and into the corridor.

"You know, Arthur, if I hadn't thought your father hated me before, I certainly would now," Merlin grumbled.

"And here I thought you'd like being near beautiful females for once. Or, if that's not your preference, which wouldn't surprise me since you haven't had much luck in that department, you'd be surrounded by handsome males, though you are blessed enough to see one handsome male in particular every day," Arthur said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and winking at Merlin.

Merlin turned his head in an attempt to hide the faint blush spreading across his face at Arthur's insinuation. "I'm sure that none of the women you'll be associating with will have such long faces and large teeth. Honestly, when I go to feed them carrots, I fear they'll bite my hand off!"

"Have you not looked in the mirror? Those ears of yours are large enough to rival those of the elephant in the children's stories; Dumbo, was it? Are you sure you're not him reincarnated as a human? That would certainly account for your intellect and clumsiness…"

"You're not perfect either, you know! I mean, you have scars all over your body and – and your front tooth is chipped up!"

"My scars show my manliness. That's why women come to me and not you, you know. You're effeminate. And, have I mentioned how large your ears are? Not to mention that no one even knew you had muscles until today, hiding behind your baggy clothing and shaggy hair…"

Merlin sighed. If he interrupted the Prince mid-rant, it was sure to lead to an even _longer_ rant about how disrespectful he was and how he should go to the stocks, and Merlin certainly did not want to have to hear that one again – he had heard it so many times he could recite it, word for word. He often did, but that just caused Arthur to rant even more because of Merlin's insolence and lack of respect for Royalty such as himself, so Merlin decided to intelligently say nothing and ignore the Prince's insults.

"… and even though it's a heavy, heavy burden, I suppose I _could_ let you in on some of my secrets on how to be charming. I'll even give you proper training. It's the least I can do. I mean, you might as well stand a bit of a chance if you really are going to pursue Morgana and, who knows, if you successfully woo her, she'll be indebted to _me_ and will have to tell me what important secret of mine she supposedly knows. If you don't, well, the harder you fall, the greater my amusement. So, what do you think?"

Merlin's jaw dropped in shock. He wasn't sure what to be more surprised about, though – that Arthur thought he liked Morgana or that Arthur was offering help. _Then again,_ he thought, _Arthur's only offering to help because he wants something out of it in return, just like the self-centered prat he is. But, according to the rumors circulating the castle, Arthur _has_ managed to bed most of the visiting ladies, so it might come in handy… not that I'd be interested in bedding women, anyways._

"Uh, I guess I could use all the help I can get, so, thanks?" Merlin replied.

Arthur, mistaking Merlin's confusion for uncertainty, slung an arm across Merlin's shoulders in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. He leaned down until his mouth was level with Merlin's ear and whispered conspiratorially, "My room, after the opening ceremonies. With all these new servant girls around, it'll give you plenty of people to practice on, so we need to start your lessons straight away."

Without giving Merlin time to reply, Arthur straightened up and walked away, calling over his shoulder "You'd better get started on the stables, Merlin. Our guests are going to be here very shortly, and I'm sure that my father doesn't want them thinking that any of our servants are incapable, regardless of whether they truly are or not." The smirk was evident in his voice.

Merlin recovered from his initial shock just in time to yell "I'll get to that _right away, sire_," in his most sarcastic tone before Arthur disappeared from his sight completely. As he headed towards the stables, Merlin felt a tiny droplet of moisture hit his face and, tilting his head upwards, witnessed the heavens opening. _As if cleaning the stables wasn't enough_, Merlin thought darkly,as he began running down the slippery stretch of grass leading to the stables, _now Mother Nature's conspiring against me, too_.


End file.
